


The Scape Goat That Escaped

by KavanLostwings



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KavanLostwings/pseuds/KavanLostwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oz Vessalius has everything he could want, but when he's framed for a crime, he may find himself running for his life, relying on a stranger with hair as dark as night and eyes that pierce through him like glowing orbs. But when the stranger isn't much better off than he is, will he learn to survive in a world colder than ice, or will they both crumble? /AU, Ozbert</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

-Pandora Hearts-

**The Scape Goat that escaped.**

**Pairing: Gilbert X Oz, hinted Eliot x Leo, One-sided Alice x Oz.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Heart's or its respective characters.**

-Pandora Hearts-

1.

Meet the Facade of Innocence.

* * *

_When the dark comes rolling in, the children march along to play._

_Merrily singing, merrily singing, "Blow them all away."_

A scent as potent as death slithered along the crumbling stone walls of an alleyway, the bleak gray skies of a foul morning blanketing the vacant streets in a hushed whisper of promised rainfall. It was here, in the rugged, barren, streets of Sablier, that the lost came out to dance among the living, ghosts of the past running amuck in the world suddenly bathed with clouds. Those were the streets that any form of intelligent of life would avoid, knowing that to be tossed out into its clutches most certainly meant death. Whether it be quick or prolonged, it didn't matter, death was inevitably unavoidable—for the rich didn't cater to the less fortunate. And the less fortunate didn't hesitate to take what they could in times of desperation.

That's why when a crippled, grimy, man came limping from the black shadows of the alley, a pair of gold eyes watched impassively, not making a move to help the starved man.

"Help me…" The man's voice pebbled out like grains of gravel to no one, just as the sky above broke, splotches of water falling to stain the pavement below in steady, misplaced, drops.

A frown formed on the lips of the observer, pity welling in his chest as the gray haired man fell to his knees in the middle of the path, his matted gray hair tumbling over his shoulders in tangled waves, blood and dirt caked in the otherwise lightly colored locks. He watched as the elderly man croaked for help once more, blindly reaching for a simple act of human kindness.

Temptation.

It was entirely too tempting to throw open the door to his little-barely large enough for one person—home and aid the fallen man in his time of need. What he wouldn't give to be able to put an end to that miserable man's pleas for help. But he couldn't, he just could not risk everything he fought so hard for. Albeit, it wasn't much, but it was all he had. This little home, a sanctuary, in the sea of poverty was enough for him to fortify his resolve to stay hidden in the safety of his window, peering out at the man from behind the glass.

"Please!" The man's cries grew louder as the drizzle outside erupted into a full blown assault of pelting droplets, the scenery outside suddenly nothing but streaks of water and blurred colors. The water soaked the poor man's clothes, making the torn cloth stick to his thin frame, outlining his ghastly sunken in flesh. Starvation and sickness riddled in the dips of the elder's brittle bones. With a slight tremble in slender, sallow, fingers, a cigarette is raised to thin, but pleasantly plump lips, then they're wrapping around the nicotine filled drug, the cancer stick lying flat between the male's teeth as a lighter clicks in the dull room. Soon, a bright flame is setting up the end of the cigarette to glow a brilliant shade of red, a tendril of smoke reaching toward the creaking ceiling.

He couldn't help-he reminded himself- no matter how much he wanted to. The memory of the last time he rushed out to help a person in need branded across his chest. A long diagonal scar, shaped over his flesh in biting cruelty and deception, hidden beneath his simple white button down shirt.

_I can't risk it. Not when he's sick…_

Breathing in… the man inhaled all he could to soothe his frazzled nerves.

But as he breathed in, he ended up blinking in surprise, his stare still pointed out the window.

Four red cloaked figures had appeared in the street amongst the fog that skittered over the ground, walking in a single line formation towards the center of town, step by step in the downpour, like the devil's assailants as they eerily glided over the path in silence.

He watched as they moved to pass the old man, not sparing the fellow a simple glance. And it was with wide eyes that he watched as the daring old man grabbed onto one of their cloaks for dear life, the dark ruby fabric clutched between shaking hands. The cloaked figure he had reached for in his delirious state was shorter than the rest of the group, a peek of silver, or perhaps lavender, locks flashing beneath the hood as the figure halted in its tracks.

And just like that, the man let go.

Breathing out… his mouth went slack in shock as a spray of crimson mixed with the rain.

A swipe of a sword slashing the man's throat burning into the gold irises as the oxygen he needed to breathe got stuck in his throat. The old man's body hitting the pavement in a lump while the group continued onward, vanishing like they had never even been there.

The pair of eyes had yet to return to their normal size, shock apparent in the hues of honey.

"It's okay, brother…you couldn't have helped him anyway." The hoarse voice sounded from behind him, just before a cough slipped out and two thin arms wrapped around his waist, a warm cheek pressing against his shoulder blades. The man didn't move, his body stiff, but after a few minutes, he relaxed, picking up the cigarette he didn't realize had dropped from his mouth to the window sill.

Silence reigned again, until the same hoarse voice broke it, "We'll be out of here soon enough, right, Gilbert?"

The dark haired man peered at his younger brother from over his shoulder, gold irises flashing with tangible sorrow as he turned his gaze back out to the downpour, his eyes falling on the silent body crumpled in a ball, alone and desperate in his final moments of life.

Gilbert closed his eyes, and Vincent never received a verbal answer.

His answer came in the subtle shaking of his older brother's shoulders.

* * *

_The feelings of change upon the horizon._

A group of red cloaked figures stepped into an underground room of the Baskerville manor, the assembled group of four silent as they entered the room, one by one.

They were instantaneously greeted with a nod from the man sitting at his desk in the middle of the chilled room, the man's hands linked beneath his chin as he gave them a pleasant smile.

"I take it you've brought him here without any trouble?"

The shortest one of the group stepped forward, and with a sweep of her hood falling off her head, she spoke, a maniacal grin taking her lips, "None at all, but I have to admit, it would have been so much more fun if he would've put up a struggle."

The man at the desk wrinkled his brows, before he let out a simple puff of amusement, his chin leaning down to rest firmly on his hands. "All in good time, Zwei. Now, the rest of you leave, I wish to speak with our guest alone."

It took only a moment for them to filter out the room, leaving a ragged blonde standing alone in the place Zwei once stood. Immediately green eyes clashed with violet, and the white haired man smiled in amusement.

"I heard from a very reliable source that you've been wanting to speak with me. I must admit, it came as surprise…considering you went missing over a year ago." Levi stated in a perplexed tone before he unweaved his hands, leaning back in his chair.

"Indeed I did. Haha, it seems the duke of Vessalius got sick of seeing my face."

_Such a strange existence._

Following the obedient boy's form with his eyes, he studied the way the seemingly carefree blonde managed to seem completely natural in the bland surroundings. Yet even so, he didn't stand out. His form just as muted as the space around them. The normally vibrant blonde locks of rich sunset mudded down with dirt. "It's been awhile, hasn't it? You look like a living corpse, Jack."

"Mm, it's nice to see you again too." Jack replied in a sunny, but sarcastic chime, the youth stepping forward to stand directly before Levi's desk.

Levi's violet hues glinted before he replied, "Not my fault you look like death, but what did you want to speak to me about, exactly?"

Jack brushed his bangs out his face with a flick of his wrist, "I've come with a proposition."

The previous Duke Baskerville leaned forward in interest, his rapidly decaying body cracking as he strained his limbs; interest apparent in his eyes.

"I want to help you regain what was stolen from you."

Shock coursed through his chest, but Levi quickly shielded it, "You mean to tell me…you want to help kill off your own flesh and blood?"

"That's a disturbing way to put it. I think it'd be better to say I just want to aid you in your act of justice." Jack muttered under his breath, but Levi's gaze never let up.

Narrowing his so far friendly stare into a glare, Levi asked, "Tell me, boy, why I should trust you?"

"Because I know the layout much better than you."

"That's hardly a reason to trust you, now is it? That's merely a reason to accept your request. But what is it you're seeking? I cannot fathom a single reason why a Vessalius would want to see their own family fail."

"It's pretty simple, really." The soft, melodically happy voice of Jack stated, his hand waving a tad as he explained, "I never thought of those people as my family. My loyalty is where my friends are, and I can't say I have any friends in that house. My friends are here, sir."

Immediately, Oswald came to mind. Tilting his head a tad, Levi let out a hearty chuckle, "By friends, you must be referring your beloved Lacie's older brother. I'm not sure if you've realized this or not yet, but that friend of yours is a very important man, as the current Duke, he hardly has time for you."

A strange expression flashed across Jack's face before he was all smiles again. "That doesn't make him any less my friend." He said sincerely, "Even if he were to forget me after all this, it'll be okay. I'd be happy just to be able to help him out this much."  
Not a word was spoken in the stifling tension in the room for a good minute before Levi suddenly was having a large bout of laughter, and Jack was refraining from looking too idiotic.

"You really are an interesting kid, aren't you, Jack?" Levi uttered between his heaps of laughter, before he started shaking his head, a cool grin curling on his lips, "Very well, I'll accept your help in this little experiment of mine."

There was a brief second of confusion before relief pooled in Jack's eyes and he was propping himself on the man's desk. "Great, let's get started then. Before I do anything crazy, I'll need to make sure I get out of this unscathed."

_Of course._

"Then how do you suppose we make that possible?" The white haired man inquired.

A venomously empty gaze locked with wickedly curious orbs, and Jack smiled.

"Have you ever met my brother?"

* * *

The soft melody of a song played in the air, to bounce from to note to note, in a fine carpeted bedroom in the Vessalius mansion. Each note struck with keen harmony in an organized song dubbed "Lacie" whilst a boy sat huddled in the room on a chair, a book nestled in his small digits and a pocket watch splayed across his lap.

The boy was the picture of beauty, a porcelain face with soft curves dipped down to read the content in his hands, and bright softly aglow emeralds for eyes that fluttered back and forth beneath light eyelashes.

His name was Oz Vessalius.

And he was currently reading a book his Uncle had got him for his Birthday last year, a soft sway to his head as he read along to the tune of the gold piece in his lap.

Oz's deep emerald gaze glossed over the one line that stood out to him in the black bound book, his lips parting in a soft murmur as he read the words across the page aloud,

"When the dark comes rolling in, the children march along to play. Merrily singing, merrily singing, blow them all way."

Oz stared down at the book, a strange feeling churning in his stomach before he glanced at the rain hitting his window. He watched as the water spread across the glass to distort the images outside, and he ended up pulling his bottom lip between his pearly white teeth in a soft nibble.

"Blow them all away?" He muttered, lost in his ponderings. While he continued to trail his gaze after the rivulets appearing on the glass.

Not even paying attention when his pocket watch stopped playing and the girl asleep on the loveseat of his room stirred, her brows knitting in her sleep.

"Oz…?" Alice murmured in her sleep, but Oz continued to look outside.

The melody resumed.


	2. A Single Face Imbedded In Two Bodies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scape Goat that escaped.  
>  Pairing: Gilbert X Oz, hinted Eliot x Leo, One-sided Alice x Oz.  
>  Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Heart's or its respective characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was already updated on My FanFiction.Net Account, but I'm uploading the second chapter here now. Hope you like it.

“Young Master!”   
  
The sound of feet stomping through the halls resounded throughout the manor, a black skirt swishing around fragile ankles as an aged woman skittered about, another pair of skirts not far behind. They increased in speed, nearing the end of the freshly polished floors. The clacking of heels ceased to exist outside a tall oak wardrobe.   
  
“Young Master Oz! Where are you?” A boisterous voice called, the owner’s gray hair pulled back into a tight bun while threads of silver splayed out across the back of her neck. They rested there with beady eyes, waiting to catch a glimpse of the runaway blonde. While slick beads of frustration formed on her skin to absorb into her uniform.   
  
Instead, as the woman whipped her head to the side, she caught sight of dancing chocolate strands, weaved around a frilled black dress.   
  
“Alice!”

The girl in question stopped mid-step and pivoted, an annoyed look crossing her delicate features. Fire was crackling embers into the violet orbs.   
  
Missus Kate, unheeded by the stony glance, rushed forward to come to a stop before the shorter female. Her breath labored as she regarded Alice hurriedly. “Where is young Master Oz?! The party starts within the hour and he is nowhere to be found!”  
  
Alice rolled her eyes, pale arms wrapped in lace rising to cross over her developing chest.  “Why would I know? I’m not his keeper.”  
  
And just like that, Missus Kate’s darkest fears were confirmed.   
  
“Don’t tell me… he’s planning on skipping this party as well!!”  
  
A mortified gasp slipped away from the young duo behind the senior, their stress apparent in down turned lips as their tongues uttered a simple, “He can’t!”  
  
To say the least, Alice was less than impressed. With a scoff, the long haired girl twisted on her heel, a rustle of cloth implying her intent to leave while her words sealed the deal, “Yeah, well, that’s not my problem.”  
  
Three steps, huffy and filled to the brim with attitude, collided with floor, before Missus Kate’s voice cut through the air.   
  
“You know, I’ve heard you have quite a love for meat.”  
  
Silence, promising and full, washed over brown knotted boots. A violet eye peeked over a puffed shoulder, and the elder woman smirked, a gleam and a devious cackle, coming to light. “Tell me where he is or I’ll order the cooks never to cook meat again!!”

Someone, somewhere, suddenly was awarded with a “checkmate”.  
  
“He’s in the garden!”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
“You heard the girl.” And just like that three women were chasing a hidden target down the hall, out into the damp humid air of the outdoors with the telltale swing of sturdy large doors.  
  
Just as a blonde head popped out from beside Alice, emerald green irises twinkling in amusement while slender legs stepped out of the wardrobe that had served as his sanctuary. “Alice, it’s not nice to lie you know.”  
  
“Kyah—hey, don’t just pop out of nowhere!” The young girl screeched, her lashes flicking up in shock to reveal the whites of her eyes.  Oz just smiled brilliantly at her, the upturned ends of his peach lips effectively drowning out any anger she could have possibly felt. It annoyed her, how easily this little punk could manipulate her.  So after hitting him over the head—to his loud protest--she merely huffed and turned away, pink blooming in her cheeks.  
  
“And shut up. It’s not like I knew where you were—I just didn’t want her to get rid of my meat!” She argued honestly, which resulted in a soft laugh from Oz.  
  
“Ha-ha, of course, Alice. Now, let’s go!” He brushed the topic aside with a mellow-dramatic flick of his wrist and turned on his heel like a bat out of ballerina hell. Then he began to saunter forward to begin his grand adventure.  
  
Only for the antagonist of his adventure to sweep in and ruin all his glorious plans, in the form of a large hand gripping the collar of his shirt, yanking him backwards as if he was merely a string bean. “Go where, exactly?”  
  
“GAH UNCLE OSCAR!” Oz and Alice hollered in shock (a mix of dread in Oz’s tone as well) when the large man’s cheerfully grinning face came into view, his broad shoulders drawn back in the string of a bow while he held his squirming nephew off the ground.   
  
“We better go get ready, don’t you think, Oz?”  
  
The loud groan that echoed throughout the corridor immediately after, answered everything.

* * *

  
  
Pale flesh coiled around a long blonde braid, the tightly drawn locks sitting like a rope between porcelain fingers as the owner tugged the hair back to stand ridged and tight between his skull and his hand. Then a glint of metal flashed as the young male began to cut the long locks, watching with a smirk as the hair fell to the floor with each snip of the scissors. Lock after lock bathing the floor in flowing strands to curl lovingly around leather boots.   
  
After the floor was covered in streaks of blonde, the male lifted up his head to stare at the object across from him, and the smirk stretched wider. From the observing glass mounted on the wall, a familiar face reached out to stroke his vision with childlike fingers. The mirror’s edges twisting with insanity. Soft wisps of short angelic tassels, gentle emerald hues, and flawless china glass skin, all stared back at him from beneath pale blonde lashes. It was the face of Oz Vessalius.   
  
As a hand reached up to cup the precious boy’s cheek, another face melted into the image behind the boy. Inky black strands parted around honey gold irises towered over the blonde.   
  
“Jack, are you ready to go?”  
  
Instead of cupping his cheek, the hand was now running through his newly acquired short blonde hair. Soft to the touch. Now, there was only one more thing to check. Jack flashed a wide, cheery, smile. Naïve innocence was reflected back at him, and the eldest son of the Vessalius family hummed his approval, brushing any stray snips of hair from his shoulders.  
  
“Yes, I think I’m good to go.” Standing from his chair with a trademark bounce to his step, Jack peered over his shoulder to lock eyes with the man behind him. The dark haired man stared at him for a moment before moving to hover in the doorway, Jack only a step behind. When they were shoulder to shoulder with each other, the shorter of the duo flashed a wide grin.    
  
“Shall we go avenge the honor of the Baskervilles, Oswald?” Jack chirped in a feathery voice.   
  
Oswald tipped his head down to meet Jack’s eerie green eyes from the shadows, before giving a simple nod of his head. Then they were off, their footsteps silent in the corridor as they headed towards the carriage that would escort to them to the Vessalius manor.  The place the operation would unfold.

But with each step Oswald made beside Jack, the lingering feeling in his chest grew louder. A loud drum pounding in his ears to match his footsteps. **Bang, click, bang, click.**   
  
Why did he feel like he was being manipulated?   
  
Oswald’s orbs watched the slight bounce in Jack’s steps, a familiar sight from when the boy used to visit Lacie, and he shook his head.   
  
No, he would trust Jack. Lacie had trusted him the male, too, after all.

Jack was his friend.

**Bang, click, bang, click.**

Jack peered at the man from beneath his fringe, the corners of his lips flickering into a simper, before he was staring blissfully ahead once more, as if he had never changed expressions at all.   


* * *

  
  
Two fingers rustled nervously with the collar of his white uniform, and Oz let out a sigh for the umpteenth time that night.   
  
“You look impeccable, young master Oz.”   
  
The weathered face of one of his servants slid into the field of his vision, and the blonde offered the elder an appreciative smile. “Thank you. However, I’m afraid that doesn’t help calm my nerves any.”    
  
The admittance, caught the male off guard, but the servant recovered quickly enough.  The crinkles that lined his eyes twinkling as he knelt down to the boy’s height, a gentle glisten being applied to his features. “Now that’s not something I hear from you every day, my boy.” His gravelly voice commented, and fragile fingers lightened by age, patted soft tuffs of hair lying on the master’s head.  “What’s on your mind, young master?”  
  
Oz’s left eye shut at the gentle impact, whilst his other remained trained on the elder. A soft breath fluttered past his almost-- but not quite--pouting mouth. “Parties are boring and I don’t wish to associate with people who can barely remember my face, let alone only wish to get acquainted with me to earn points with my family name.”  Oz stated, only half-speaking the truth.  As much as he truly didn’t want to join in the festivities celebrating his coming of his age, he was more chained down by the fact his father would be attending.   
That shaded face, growling hatred into his pores until he couldn’t breathe. That face he desperately wanted to make smile at him at least once; the broad shoulders that drift away from him and cast shadows over his form in searing waves of disappointment. Xia Vesalius: the man who hated his very existence.   
  
The warmth of the servant’s hand was plucked away, an amused chortle snapping Oz from the downward spiral of thought.   
  
“I see, I see. Well, it’s all part of growing up, young master. I wouldn’t dwell on it too much, just be your charming little self to entice conversation, and soon the party will be over. Then, you and Alice can go back to playing in the garden.”   
  
“Ah, you’re right. Alice has wanted to go exploring for a while hasn’t she?”  
  
“Mmm, she has been complaining quite loudly about being coped up in the manor lately.”  
  
Oz slipped on his mask of content. “That sounds like Alice! Well if she’s feeling bored, I’d better get this ceremony over with so I can make her happy.”  
  
Nodding his head in approval, the servant stepped aside to make room for the youth that had begun to make way for the main hall. “That’s the spirit, young master. I do hope you find some enjoyment from tonight.”  
  
“I’m sure I will, after all, Alice does owe me a dance, and the cake looks excellent.” Glancing back over his shoulder, Oz split his face into a simper that blended in like clear water over the emotions on his face.  “I’ll be going then, make sure to stop by to play a game of chess later, it’s a promise.”  
  
“Yes, Yes. I will be there.” The youth disappeared out the door, and the man smiled. “It’s a promise.”  
  
And when the man turned to finish his cleaning, he never noticed the shade of red watching from the window pane.  


* * *

 

Emerald orbs, unmistakable and piercing, scanned through the crowd and dripped toxins in each path they dwelled over. A stone façade held together with wispy lashes and fleeting smiles as Jack slipped about the ball room alive with music and mingling. His gaze finally falling on Oz’s back that was on the other side of the room. Jack watched with anticipation as his younger brother fell right into his role.  
  
Oz discreetly as possible, was sneaking off to enjoy his time elsewhere until the actual ceremony began. Jack could tell with each backwards shuffle the smaller body made towards the door, the way his skin was lightly coated with anxiety, and from the annoyance thrumming alive in the eyes that were a perfected version of his own.   
  
Jack held his breath. Then the true heir to Vesalius, vanished from the room.  
  
The minute his presence was faded, the snake in the grass truly appeared. With the shadows of secrecy falling away from his body like a veil, Jack threw out his most dazzling smile and turned to hold out his hand to a pretty little brunette who was about to tip-toe past him. “May I have this dance?”  
  
Watching in morbid fascination as the young girl’s face blew up into shades of red, he took her hand, lacing it with his and pulled her forward to lead her into a waltz.  Jack ignored the way she stumbled over her words in favor of sliding his calculating orbs past the naïve girl that he was twirling across the freshly polished dance floor.

Five crowds of people, eight couples twirling and in the corner, hidden away by an ajar door in the hallway…  
  
 It was his target.   
  
Without a word, he changed his and his partner’s course, dancing across the room.  


* * *

  
  
Soap bubbled around his hands as he scrubbed the floor. The servant, hard at work, paused in surprise when the sound of a door creaking alerted his senses to another presence in the room. Lifting himself to his feet, the male pivoted to see an unexpected person in the doorway, bathed in the lights of the party just meters away.

“Ah, young master, I thought you settled on enjoying the party? Was there something else you needed?”   
  
Oz moved closer, his height almost seeming to have increased from the hour before, but perhaps he had simply inhaled too much soap throughout his years.   
  
“Young Master Oz?” He questioned again, concern riddling his tone as he reached down to pat the boy’s head as he had done earlier. Surely the boy couldn’t have had a run in with his father already? He had seen firsthand what that man could do to Oz’s normally cheerful mood.  
  
His hand brushed feathered locks.   
  
“…” The hand froze, pale digits trembling as a gurgled sound left the old man’s lips. “Y-young…ma..master?”    
  
Soft blonde locks fluttered backwards, the soft dance humming in tune with the sound of the sword being jerked out of the man’s chest. Crimson staining the floor at the same time a soft squelch sounded in the small room. Emerald glanced upwards, hollow and now resembling murky lake water.  
  
“It seems this disguise has worked out much better than I anticipated. The minor height difference seems to have not been a key fault after all. Thank you very much for acting as a test subject.” The Oz look-alike chirped, dead orbs hauntingly mimicked by an eerie grin. “You have my gratitude.”   
  
“Disguise…?!” The old-man crumbled to his knees in horror, honey-brown eyes wide as he shuffled backwards, a hand grasping the hole in his chest for dear life. He had to warn Oz, if he didn’t… he would… he would…

_“I’ll be going then, make sure to stop by to play a game of chess later, it’s a promise.”_  
  
_“Yes, Yes. I will be there.” The youth disappeared out the door, and the man smiled. “It’s a promise.”_

He would not let his master come to harm. Struggling to get to his feet while pained grunts escaped his red-splattered lips, he reached out for the side of an end table.  Only for a red cloaked figure to appear beside him, a sharp kick sending him whirling back to the ground. “Gah!”  
  
“Now, now, no need to be so harsh. He’s about to die anyway.”  
  
The figure said nothing, just stepped aside so that the imposter could approach. Oz’s face stared back at him once again, and the servant felt tears prick his eyes. Soft emotions squeezing his chest with brutal fear as that deceptive face smiled again.   
  
_“You will be in charge of watching over Oz.”_

_The male tilted his head downward, meeting the most vibrant pair of eyes he had ever seen. The little boy who was an esteemed nobleman, blinked up at him, before tugging on his pant leg. Then his cheeks puffed out._  
  
“Since you’re my servant, I will be watching over you too. Now let’s play a game, Bernard.”

_It was the first time in that old man’s life, he had instantly wanted to protect something._

“Don’t…. do this.” Bernard pleaded, attempting to scoot away into safety. All he had to do was scream. All he had to…  
  
“Hm? I’m afraid a dying man’s request has no value to me.”  
  
Chapped and bloody lips parted, a voice scratching to be heard.  
  
Then something sharp was piercing his throat, and the manors visage melted away. The feel of the floor, the pain in his chest, the scent of the rich…all of it faded away until there was nothing left.

“Jack.”

“I know, let’s start the real fun.”

 


End file.
